The Engineer Girl
by LittleJerseyanNinja
Summary: Ever wondered who made all that mechanic stuff for the Games? Well, now you do! Allie Conner has been building them since she was a child. Her view through the first games. But when the breakout happens during the Quarter Quell, will she serve the Rebels, or stay with the Capitol? A child's POV on the world while they are surrounded by war and secrets, deaths and hatred.


Chapter 1 – The Engineer Girl

I carefully connect the wires. The monitor comes to life instantly.

_Yes!_ I think. I had taken weeks to perfect these weapons for the Arena.

I don't like these games, but I'm the only one here in the Capitol who has the skill to make these weapons. I was 6 years old when I built my first robot servant!

Seneca Crane walks into my drawing slash inventing slash constructing room. "How are the machines coming?" he asks.

"I just finished the new microphone, force-field generator and miniature cameras. The sponsorship board is coming along nicely."

"How's your hand?" he asks, looking down at my right hand.

I flex my fingers. "Good" I say.

A few weeks ago, I was working on the force-field generator and repairing a major flaw when the machine went berserk and sparked so much. It hit me with such force that it knocked me out of my chair and against the wall.

The worst part was, I cut my wrist on a knife that flew at me from the generator's blow. It chopped my hand clean off. I never felt so much pain before.

Sure, I have a certain permanent burn on the bottom of my left arm, but other than a few other tiny burns from stray sparks and cuts from wires, I'm perfectly fine.

They rushed me to the hospital. I was starting to black out from blood loss, until I couldn't hold on to consciousness anymore.

Of course, President Snow and the Gamemakers couldn't risk their only engineer to lose her hand, so they gave me an artificial one- a mechanic hand. They put it on without any pain at all and with my help they hooked it to my mind so it works just like my normal hand. It helps, I move my fingers move faster than before.

"Glad to hear it. Want to watch the replays of the reapings?" he says.

"Sure" I say, and he turns to the door, and walks out. I resume my designs of mutts for the finale.

Oh, I didn't bother to tell you about myself, did I? Well, my name is Alison Conner, but I'm just called Allie.

I finish the designs and put them in the machine. It scans it and prints out the materials I need. I rush around, gathering them.

I piece them together, slowly and carefully. My left hand holds a piece of metal while my robotic hand slides a tube into it.

At last, I finish it off by layering the mutts with midnight-black to give them a nightmare affect. Later, when all the Tributes have been prepped and are in training, I will take the colors of each of their eyes and add them to each mutt, as to scare the final three Tributes into thinking that the dead Tributes have been turned into mutts and are trying to avenge their own deaths.

I slide down the banister and into the TV room. Seneca and President Snow are waiting.

The tape plays. District 1 – Marvel and Glimmer. District 2 – Cato and Clove.

I drift off until District 11. Rue and Thresh. Little Rue- she's so small! How could SHE survive?

Then, District 12. I prepare to pity the poor boy and girl who will obviously die from that District.

A young blonde girl-Primrose Everdeen- is called. She is twelve, like Rue. I pity her right away. It's a shame for a girl like her to die!

But then someone starts to yell Primrose's name.

"PRIM!"

The cameras turn to face a raven-haired girl with olive skin and grey eyes.

"PRIM!"

The peacekeepers hold her back, but then the girl starts to scream, "I VOLUNTEER!"

The peacekeepers let her go.

"I volunteer as Tribute!"

Prim latches onto the girl. "No, Katniss, no! You can't go!"

Katniss tries to pull Prim off her, but Prim refuses. A tall boy who looks like he could be Katniss's brother pulls Prim off of Katniss and carries a thrashing and screaming Prim off into the crowd.

I don't listen to anything after, but I listen when the boy's name is called.

"Peeta, Mellark!"

A blonde-haired boy with bright blue eyes slowly walks up to the stage. The Tributes shake hands, and it's over.

I get up off the cushion and go to resume my work, but instead go straight to bed.

I've got a few days, right? Then relax and wait until the games are over. Then start designing again.


End file.
